


Bright White Lights

by Littlelambred



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Gen, Originally Posted on Tumblr, tumblr headcanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 16:08:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littlelambred/pseuds/Littlelambred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off of this headcanon from theuprisingishere:</p>
<p>Xephos is fascinated by torches because of how primitive they are. He’s used to high tech lighting, and he places too man torches because he’s unused to spaces being so dark. His otherworldly light sources work better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bright White Lights

If he was going to be completely honest, Xephos would say that he was afraid of the dark.

The dark was a thing of mystery. It was the mother of all nightmares: demons, ghosts, and even the boogieman, they all circled one central theme: darkness. The monsters that followed him, they followed in his shadow, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about that.

Xephos had grown up surrounded by steel and starlight. He’d read stories by fluorescent lamp light, and he’d had his first kiss surrounded by wires. He was so used to the white lights, the hum of generators under his feet, that standing in a cave, surrounded by dank, jagged-edged walls and shadows was unnerving.

He didn’t have much of his old technology with him anymore. The grass didn’t hum under his feet; the sun was bright, but it left him every night. There was only one constant in his new life, and that was darkness.

And with the darkness, there came danger.

So he learned, and he adapted. The stars came down every night in the form of fireflies (which were pretty to look at, but their light source was meek). He learned to make torches. He learned how to create shelter.

But underground, where the light didn’t reach you and there was no real way to tell where you were going, that was when he missed his machinery the most. He missed the clean, fresh feeling of light.

He missed the way the brightness seemed to send ripples of energy through his blood, and the way it felt to walk too close to live wires.

Torches helped a bit. He loved them, in their simplicity, and they were warm on cold nights. But they were incredibly hard to use.

Honeydew made fun of him sometimes. When Xephos first tried to use a flint and steel, he’d not succeeded quickly. It had taken a long time, and he still had some calluses to prove it. Lighting a single torch – or as Xephos had called them, “primitive fire-stick thingies” – had taken him too long for his liking. He missed his switches. He missed wires, red and blue, and he missed most of all the light.

Xephos would sometimes peer into the darkness and wonder what was staring back. He would press his palm flat against the stone walls surrounding him and pretend that they were breathing. He’d stare at the last dying light of his torch, watching as the embers danced, and would wonder what genius first made a torch.

The world around Xephos was new and primitive, and sometimes is scared the shit out of him, but damn if he wasn’t going to try and figure it out.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to drop me a line on [ tumblr ](http://rythians-feathery-ass.tumblr.com)


End file.
